


Hot For Teacher or How Tim's Summer Got a Whole Lot More Complicated

by jpo2107



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Tim is trying to be responsible ok, summer time shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 15:28:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8377417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jpo2107/pseuds/jpo2107
Summary: Tim's summer wasn't supposed to be like this.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU setting where Rhys and Angel are in University together and Angel invites Rhys to spend the summer with her at her dad's beach house, where her uncle is house-sitting while he works on his new novel and preps for his fall semester writing courses.
> 
> Rhys is 22 years old and Tim is 38 years old in this AU. If that age difference is a problem for you, probably don't read any further!
> 
> thank you to @thirtysixsavefiles for encouraging me and reading over this while I screamed into my hands.

Tim is in _Hell._

This summer was supposed to be like all the summers before it; Tim would stay at his brother’s beach house, editing the final draft of his book and finalizing the upcoming fall semester syllabi for his three writing courses, enjoying the company of his niece Angel, and tolerating the company of his brother, Jack.

Tim’s not expecting Angel to bring along one of her friends from University---although, that’s _fine_ , he’s _glad_ she has friends; she’s a sweet, smart girl and Tim knew going away to University was good for her. So, in theory, this should be fine. _Tim should be fine_.

He is not fine.

He is currently sitting on the beach house deck, his laptop open, with his various Word documents to work on, and he’s not paying attention to any of it because Angel’s friend Rhys is standing ten feet in front of him in the tiniest shorts possible, and quite frankly, Tim feels a little compromised. And horrified with himself.

Rhys is practically all leg, tall and lean, with a little bit of a tummy (which makes him that much more endearing, though Tim tries to shake that thought from his head). His skin is pale and smooth, almost creamy ivory, except where the blue ink of an intricate tattoo covers his arm and some of his chest. The light glints off of his mechanical arm, the yellow colouring almost as blinding as the summer sun.Tim rubs his forefinger and thumb across his eyes wearily; he’s already had this conversation (argument?) with himself for the past two weeks already.

“What are you working on?” Rhys’s voice starts Tim out of his panicked inner monologue. Tim looks up from where he was staring off into space to meet Rhys’s eyes, and Rhys smiles at him, brushing the stray locks of brown hair from his forehead, and Tim’s heart rate rises rapidly.

“Oh! Um, just some course reading material for next semester,” Tim replies, inwardly cringing at how his voice sounds. Like some inexperienced kid. Like a twenty-two university student with a crush.

Like, Rhys. For example.

Tim’s not _completely_ oblivious, he’s seen how Rhys has been looking at him since he arrived. He brushed it off initially, didn’t engage Rhys in too much conversation, and definitely made sure they were never alone for long. But Tim can feel his resolve crumbling, especially when Rhys is looking at him with those wide eyes and long lashes, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as he speaks to Tim.

Rhys is going to give him a heart attack, he just knows it.

“Oh yeah, Angel mentioned that you teach writing during the fall,” Rhys says, shifting his weight so he’s leaning against the deck railing, crossing one long leg over the other. Tim tries not to follow the movement with his eyes too blatantly. “It’s too bad you don’t teach at Pandora U; not that I’m registered for any writing courses, but it’d be, um, cool to see you around campus.”

 _Tread carefully_ , Tim thinks to himself. “Hah, I don’t think Angel would want her Uncle cramping her style at school.”

“Well,” Rhys says, tapping the end of his sunglasses against his bottom lip. “She’s not necessarily the one you’d have to see, though.”

Tim almost chokes on his tongue but is saved from responding when Angel comes out through the front door, her beach bag hanging from her shoulder. She smiles brightly at Tim and Rhys as she closes the door behind her.

“Hey guys!” She says cheerfully. “Rhys, you ready to go?”

Rhys grins, putting his sunglasses back onto his face. “Definitely, let’s head out.”

Angel waves goodbye to Tim as she and Rhys head towards her Jeep. Rhys looks over his shoulder back at Tim, his sunglasses dipped down his nose so his eyes are just visible. And he winks at Tim, with a grin on his face.

And then promptly trips over his feet, landing almost face first into the sand.

“Oh good lord, Rhys.” Angel laughs, pulling Rhys up onto his feet, not noticing the deep red his cheeks have turned, but Tim sees it. And while he’s trying to stifle his own laughter, Tim also knows that he’s still in trouble because Rhys’s bout of clumsiness has, if anything, only endeared him to Tim even more.

Once Angel has driven off, Tim stays in his chair for a few moments longer, staring at his laptop for a few moments, before heading back into the house.

He needs a _long_ shower.

~

Jack is absolutely no help. Which shouldn’t surprise Tim, yet here he is.

During the week, Jack stays in the city, working at Hyperion. He comes down to the beach house on the weekend, usually bringing his girlfriend Nisha with him, but sometimes it’s just him that arrives. The only reason Jack let Angel come down to the beach house with a friend in the first place was that Tim would be there as “constant supervision” (never mind that his daughter is in her early twenties, but Jack has never been anything but over-protective when it comes to Angel). He especially wanted Tim to keep an eye on Rhys, convinced that he was interested in his baby girl, but by the first week it was abundantly clear that Rhys and Angel were _just friends_ , and that Rhys had no ill-intentions towards Angel. Other than beating her at ping-pong.

Speaking of which, Angel and Rhys were currently engaged in an intense ping-pong match in the basement of the house, Tim and Jack had been watching but Jack had been banished from the basement because he kept trying to coach Angel from the sidelines and she threatened to throw her paddle at his “stupid, smug face!” Which meant Jack had dragged Tim upstairs to grab a beer with him, and with no subtlety whatsoever, asked Tim point blank if he was “fucking that Rheez kid or whatever the hell his name is.”

“Jack!” Tim yelps, spilling beer down the front of his t-shirt. “Seriously?”

“I’ll take that as a no,” Jack smirks, twisting the cap off of his beer and throwing it onto the counter. “Dunno why you’re so bent outta shape though, he clearly wants to. You seeing the way he looks at you?”

“Jack--” Tim tries to interject, but no, his brother is on a roll.

“I’m just saying--college kids? They’re _freaks_ . I bet you could get him to do anything you wanted. Hell, you could probably get him on his knees behind the boathouse after Angel goes to bed.” Jack waggles his eyebrows comically. “You can’t tell me you don’t want to pop that kid’s cherry.I mean, I bet he’s sucked a dick or two, with that mouth he’s _had_ to, but you’d probably be the first to fu--”

“Jack, come on, man.” Tim whines, closing his eyes in protest. “This is _literally_ the last thing I wanna talk about with you.”

“Listen pal,” Jack smiles in a not-so friendly way, clapping his hand on Tim’s shoulder. “If I wasn’t such a _stellar_ pillar of the community--” Tim snorts in disbelief, which Jack ignores, “I’d be making myself plenty familiar with that ass tonight, believe me.”

“Oh, I’m sure Nisha would love that,” Tim replies sarcastically.

“Nisha _would_ love that, fyi, she’d only be pissed if I didn’t snapchat the entire thing to her.”

“Oh good lord.” Tim sighs, covering his face with his free hand.

“Do yourself a favour, buddy.” Jack says, draining the last of his beer in one gulp. “Summer’s coming to a close and you’ll never see that kid again. Just---don’t overthink it, like you always do, and have some fucking fun, sweet jesus.” With those words of “wisdom”, Jack leaves Tim standing in the kitchen by himself, making his way back downstairs, promising Angel that he’ll keep the backseat coaching to a minimum.

~

Tim doesn’t take Jack’s advice. He keeps his distance from Rhys. He’s friendly still, sure, but it doesn’t go any further than that. Rhys flirts with him, almost shamelessly, and while Tim is extremely flattered, he’s still hesitant. He’s _not_ his brother. And Rhys is...well, Rhys isn’t someone that Tim would want to hurt. He’s not wired that way.

That doesn’t mean that Tim doesn’t think about Rhys when he’s all alone. When he’s alone in his bedroom, the door firmly locked behind him, stretched out on his king-sized mattress, sinking into the soft material as his hand lightly grazes his rapidly stiffening cock, straining the material of his boxers.

Tim lets out a low sigh as he squeezes some of the lube from his bedside drawer into his hand, internally scolding himself for even thinking about Rhys in this way, but not exactly stopping himself as he takes himself in his hand, slowly slicking himself up and down, trying not to think about the how it would sound if he was slicking up Rhys’s hole, getting him ready to take Tim’s dick with one hard thrust.

He’s definitely not thinking about how Rhys would look, pushed face down on his bed, ass sticking in the air, those long legs spread obscenely as Tim would work his fingers and mouth into Rhys, opening him up, making him beg for Tim to take him already, to stop teasing and fuck him.

Tim groans into the crook of his arm as his hand speeds up, his hips lifting of their own accord, the wet, slick sounds of the lube and his hand spurring him on as he thinks about fucking Rhys into the mattress, Rhys’s groans muffled by the pillows as Tim thrusts into him.

He bites down on his fist to muffle his own moans as his orgasm catches Tim off guard, painting his t-shirt in ropes of come, his breathing slowly becoming more laboured as he tries to catch his breath. He knows that Rhys’s bedroom is on the other side of the house but his face burns slightly to think that maybe Rhys could have heard him.

_Maybe Rhys would like to hear what Tim sounds like when he jerks off, though._

Tim shakes his head to clear his mind of these intruding thoughts, and forces himself to get out of bed and to the bathroom to throw his shirt into the laundry hamper. He’s very glad that his bedroom has an adjoining bathroom; he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to bump into Rhys in the hallway.

At least, that’s what Tim tries to convinces himself.

~

Summer is coming to a close, and Tim’s feeling pretty proud of himself. He’s resisted the siren song of Rhys, and Rhys has come to accept that Tim wasn’t going to go for the bait, no matter how much he flirted. There were a few close calls, Rhys pressing himself against Tim as he passed him in the hallway, their lips dangerously close together, but Angel’s voice would break through the reverie from downstairs, and they would break apart, and Tim would take several steps back while Rhys would smile at him, a bit sadly, before heading back to Angel.

So, a few close calls, but nothing happened. It was fine. Tim kept telling himself that this was for the best. Rhys would forget about him, and Tim would. Well, Tim would cope.

Angel is scurrying around the house at breakneck speed, putting in loads of laundry and packing up her jeep for her and Rhys’s departure tomorrow morning. Rhys has been trying to help her, but his attempts have mostly hindered her, so she basically told him to go sit outside on the back porch. Rhys’s pout was almost comical, but he did has she asked without too much complaining.

“Uncle Tim?” Angel calls from the kitchen. “I need to go into town to get some groceries for our trip back. Can I use your car so I don’t use up all my gas?”

Tim looks up from the book he’s reading on the living room couch and digs into his pocket to grab his keys before tossing them to her waiting hand.

“Thanks!” She says over her shoulder as she heads out the door. “I’ll be back in less than an hour probably.”  The front door closes behind her and the house falls silent without the sounds of Angel frantically running back and forth. Tim fidgets slightly on the couch before getting up and moving to the kitchen to grab a glass of iced tea. He sees Rhys’s profile from the kitchen window and decides it’s only appropriate to ask Rhys is he wants something to drink as well.

Tim makes it to the open doorway of the back porch, the words dying on his tongue as he takes in the scene. Rhys is stretched out on the back porch swing chair, long legs perched on the armrest, the mid-day sunlight dancing off the smooth skin, dappling him in a sort of light pattern. His eyes are half closed and he has a small smile on his face as he basks in the sunlight, his brown hair almost turning a shade of auburn as the sun weaves it’s way through the strands.

Tim is speechless. He’s aware of how gorgeous Rhys is, he’s not _blind_ . But this is something else entirely. Rhys is _beautiful_. Almost otherworldly in his beauty.

Rhys opens his eyes and looks over at Tim, a slow smile settling over his features, and whatever thread Tim’s resolve was hanging by _snaps_.

Rhys notices the subtle change over Tim’s features and sits up a little straighter as Tim walks over towards him, and he opens his mouth, presumably to say something, but Tim doesn’t care right now. All Tim wants from that mouth is for it to be on his. He brings his face down to meet Rhys’s and hungrily presses their lips together, devouring the shocked “Oh!” escaping from Rhys’s mouth before Rhys’s hands scramble to a tighter hold on Tim’s shoulders, pulling him down on top of Rhys.

Tim pulls away slightly, both their breathing coming fast and hard. Rhys’s pupils are blown and dark, his cheeks flushed and warm as Tim’s thumbs brush lightly over them.

“Is this okay?” Tim asks, his voice hoarse. He’ll back off if Rhys wants him to but _god_ , it’ll be tough.

“Are you kidding me?” Rhys laughs, his lips pressing against Tim’s again. “I’ve only wanted this to happen for _weeks_ now.”

“I was trying to be responsible,” Tim grumbles as he shift on top of Rhys, grinding their hips together, causing Rhys to throw his head back against the chair cushion with a soft _thunk._

“So much for that,” He teases, sneaking his hands down Tim’s back and giving his ass a light squeeze. “How much time do we have?”

“Enough time,” Tim grinds out against Rhys’s neck, sucking lightly as they move against each other, the swing chair swaying slightly with their movements.

“Come on, come on” Rhys gasps, pulling at Tim’s shorts. “Fuck me already. _Please_. God, don’t make me wait any longer, you tease.”

Tim pulls himself off of Rhys, grinning slightly at Rhys’s whimper at the loss of contact. “Give me a second.”

He heads back into the house and since Jack’s room is closest, he rummages in Jack’s bedside drawer until he finds a condom and a small packet of lube. He quickly returns to the back porch, to the sight of Rhys shrugging out of his tank top and pushing his shorts down his thighs. Tim’s breath catches slightly and when Rhys notices that he’s returned, he winks at Tim as he steps out of his shorts. He arranges himself over the swing chair, looking over his shoulder at Tim, and spreads his knees a little wider, grinning at the groan that escapes Tim’s  throat. Tim quickly steps out of his shorts and boxers, ripping the condom package with his mouth before rolling it onto himself, hissing slightly. He coats two fingers with lube, dropping the packet onto the ground before stepping into Rhys’s personal space, rubbing his cock between the perfect crease of Rhys’s ass. Rhys’s hands tighten against the hardwood of the chair and he pushes back against Tim.

“Come on, Tim,” He begs, looking over his shoulder, his eyelashes fluttering as Tim ruts against him. “Please, _come on_.”

Tim circles one of his fingers against Rhys’s opening before pressing in, drawing out needy and desperate noises from Rhys, his back arching and hips pressing back in time with the rhythm set by Tim’s finger and the sway of the chair.

“God, your ass is perfect,” Tim breathes as he adds another finger and Rhys shudders and presses his face against the chair’s cushion, muffling his groans of pleasure.

“Tim---ah!” Rhys moans, his movements making the chair swing back and forth. “Tim, _please_. Fuck me, fuck me right now!”

Tim slowly removes his fingers from Rhys, and gripes his hip with one hand and with the swing still swinging slightly, guides himself into Rhys with one long, slow, movement, using the momentum of the chair to his advantage.

Rhys is biting down on the chair cushion now, trying to keep his noise level to a minimum, but that is becoming increasingly difficult as Tim steadily fucks him, moving his hips in time with swing, each thrust pushing in deeper, and Tim knows he hits the sweet spot when Rhys’s back arches and his legs spread even wider.

The words falling out of Rhys’s mouth are a muffled jumble of Tim’s name, _please_ and _harder,_ and the swing chair is starting to creak ominously, but Tim doesn’t care. The house could fall apart around them and he wouldn’t stop fucking Rhys. He feels too good around his dick, so tight and warm, and Tim is almost angry at himself for not doing this sooner. He should have done this at the beginning of the summer. _He should have had this every night_ . He should have had Rhys on his dick in every position imaginable. Tim punctuates each of these thoughts with an increasingly hard thrust, savouring the noises coming from Rhys’s mouth. Rhys has given up any pretense of keeping his voice down now. Tim doesn’t _care_. He hopes the neighbours can hear this. Everyone should be so lucky to hear the sounds making their way out of Rhys’s mouth.

Tim’s hand snakes its way forwards and grasps Rhys’s cock, stroking fast, in time with Tim’s thrusts. Rhys pushes back as good as he gets, encouraging Tim to go deeper, faster.

“Tim---I---!” Rhys’s body tightens as he spills over Tim’s hand, soiling the chair’s fabric with his come. Tim groans loudly as Rhys clenches around his dick and he’s pulled over the edge to his orgasm, his hips thrusting erratically a few more times before he stills, his chest draped over Rhys’s sweat soaked back.

“So,” Rhys says hopefully, panting slightly, “see you next summer?”

  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! :)


End file.
